To Write Love On Her Arms
by HannahAndLola
Summary: Can New York City survive when a case brings Gibbs, Tony and McGee together with the CSI:NY crew?


**Summary:** Can New York City survive when a case brings Gibbs, Tony and McGee together with the CSI:NY crew?  
**Author's Notes:** NCIS and CSI: New York do not belong to us, and we don't own the rights to them sadly. ;) We just like playing with them. ;) ...All ideas belong to Angel Estrada at Stokes Fanficz and BabyGurl0506, so please don't plagerize! This is our first ever crossover and the first time we've ever co-written a fic, so please be gentle. :) ...Oh yeah, and this is completely un-beta'd. :)

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The day started out like any normal day in D.C.- Normal, unless you count the three feet of snow that had already accumulated, and the three to six more inches that were expected to fall.

"Looks like we're snowed in, McBlizzard," Tony grinned at McGee, momentarily breaking his gaze from the window.

"Yeah, it looks that way," McGee nodded, studying his computer screen.

"What are you looking at, McFrosty?"

When McGee didn't answer, Tony's curiousity peaked and he made his way over to McGee's desk, peeking over the younger agent's shoulder.

"Weather map?" Tony questioned. "You couldn't look outside and see that it's _snowing_, McFlurry? Okay," he paused, "now you've made me hungry."

"What?" McGee's brow furrowed and he finally looked up at DiNozzo. "How does talking about snow making you hungry, Tony?"

"Frosties, Blizzards, McFlurries. You know, Wendy's, Dairy Queen, McDonald's. Desserts, McClueless."

"Right," McGee nodded, rolling his eyes as he went back to his screen.

Tony walked back to the window and sat on the ledge, staring out into a field of white, thinking aloud, "I always wondered what this would be like."

"What _what_ would be like, Tony?"

"This. You, me, Ziva, Gibbs, stuck in the same room for who knows how many hours, Probie." He cringed at the thought, "Some of us may not make it out alive."

"Or maybe just _one_ of you won't," a stern voice interjected as he swiftly entered the bullpen. "Grab your gear!"

Startled, Tony jumped to his feet and hurried to his desk. McGee grinned from his own workspace.

"What do we got, Boss?"

"Got a call from Naval Intelligence. Lieutenant Commander Amanda Ryan. Thirty. Divorced. Missing."

"Missing for how long?" McGee questioned curiously.

"Two days," Gibbs stated simply.

Gibbs no sooner got the words out, and another person came fleeing for the elevator. Gibbs raised his eyebrows, giving the woman a demanding stare.

"I can explain," she said, rushing in the elevator sideways, just in time for the doors to close.

"Sure hope you can," Gibbs retorted.

"I was trying to blow my hair and the electricity went off."

"Out, Ziva," Tony corrected her. "What else were you trying to blow?"

A hand made hard contact with the back of Tony's head and he winced. "Ya done, DiNozzo?"

"Done, Boss," Tony nodded.

"Anyway," Ziva continued, "I did not know what time it was. I left my cell phone in my car and my watch does not work."

Gibbs nodded, glancing up at the floor lights.

The elevator quickly came to a halt and, one-by-one, they made their exit.

"Grab a shovel," Gibbs said aloud. The puzzled looks on their faces asked enough questions. "Did I stutter? G_rab a shovel_. Gotta dig out before we can leave."

Gibbs left them to 'dig out' and grabbed a cup of coffee, enjoying himself while his team worked.

"This is all your fault, McPlow," Tony jabbed.

"How is this _my_ fault?" McGee questioned.

"I haven't figured that out yet, but it is."

"This is not anyone's fault," Ziva jumped in.

"I beg to differ. Besides, how'd you get out of your driveway?" Tony asked curiously.

"I pay to have it cleared," she grinned.

Tony glared and shook his head. "You know," he paused, huffing and puffing with each shovel load, "I've heard of a lot of people having heart attacks from shoveling snow."

"Yeah, Tony," McGee responded, "people with chronic medical conditions and history, who shouldn't be doing physical labor in the first place."

"Oh, gee, McScrubs," Tony answered, leaning on his shovel as he paused to breathe, "people with chronic medical conditions and history. Apparently, you've forgotten that I almost died from the _plague_?"

"You're not going to die from shoveling snow, Tony."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. You don't fit the criteria."

"Oh, so having lungs that barely work doesn't fit the criteria? Ask me how my breathing is, McGee."

McGee rolled his eyes. "No."

"Just... Just do it, McGee!"

Sighing, McGee finally asked, "How's your breathing, Tony?"

"Not too good."

"You're talking in complete sentences. You're not complaining of any chest pain. You're fine, Tony."

"Actually, my chest _does_ hurt, McGee."

"Gonna hurt a lot worse unless you quit talkin' and start shovelin'," Gibbs interjected.

"Shoveling," Tony nodded, exaggerating a groan with every pile of snow he moved.

Half an hour later, the team was finally on their way to the missing woman's residence; DiNozzo asleep in the back seat, McGee researching something on his laptop in the seat next to Tony, and Ziva in the front seat, quietly keeping Gibbs company.

Gibbs kept a close eye on Tony in the back, grinning as he slammed on the breaks as they arrived at their destination, tires screeching to a halt, DiNozzo flying into the back of the front passenger's seat.

Tony groaned while McGee and Ziva erupted with laughter.

"Let's go. No time for games," Gibbs commented sternly.

They grabbed their backpacks and headed towards the front door.

As they approached It, Gibbs noted that the door was open. He put his hand up, signaling for the team to stop, and they all reached for their firearms.

"You two," he whispered, pointing to DiNozzo and Ziva, and Tony finished Gibbs' thought.

"Perimeter," Tony whispered back, nodding, quickly and cautiously heading towards the back of the house.

Gibbs looked at McGee and McGee nodded that he was ready.

They entered the house quietly, each one taking a room. There were no signs of forced entry and the house was fairly well kept.

"Clear," McGee broke the silence first.

"Clear," Gibbs responded as he checked another room.

Gibbs scoped out the kitchen next, mentally noting that a knife was missing from its respective position.

"Uhh, Boss?" McGee called out as he reached the upstairs hallway, just outside of the master bedroom.

Gibbs' brow furrowed and he hurried towards McGee.

"I think our missing person is now a murder victim," McGee said aloud, pointing to the woman on the floor, a pool of blood encompassing her, a knife protruding from her back. Multiple visible stab wounds were present.

Gibbs shook his head with an inaudible sigh, examining the surroundings. He peeked in the master bedroom. The bedroom furniture was misplaced throughout the room, obvious signs of a struggle were evident.

As he exited the room, he glanced down the hall, the direction that the victim appeared to have been heading towards.

"Kids, McGee," Gibbs stated simply.

The two left the victim momentarily, quickly making entrance into a young girl's room.

"Two beds. I'm guessing two kids," McGee said.

"Ya think, McGee?"

The room was spotless. Nothing seemed to be out of place.

"We've cleared the entire residence, Boss. No sign of the kids."

Gibbs nodded, momentarily getting lost in memories.

Meanwhile, DiNozzo and Ziva made their way inside, bickering.

"If the shoveling didn't kill me, _you_ will."

"How can I possibly kill you, Tony?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know, Ziva. Maybe sneaking up on me like you did?"

"I did not sneak up on you. I gave you a warning."

"Actually, I could've killed _you_," he paused, thinking. "Maybe I _should've_. Then, you would've learned a lesson."

By this time, they were already inside, Gibbs standing at the top of the steps, glaring.

"You two done? Got a scene to process."

"Body?" Tony asked.

"Atleast ten stab wounds. Couple defensive wounds on her hands. Few bruises. Ducky's on the way."

"No, I'm here, Jethro," a voice happily interjected as he entered the residence.

"Body's up here, Duck."

Jimmy Palmer wasn't too far behind. "Hey," he nodded, offering a smile to Tony and Ziva.

Ducky knelt down next to the body, carefully turning the victim onto her side, inserting a thermometer into her liver.

"You were far too young, my dear," he commented to the lifeless form in front of him.

"What can you tell me, Duck?" Gibbs questioned impatiently.

"Well," he paused, removing the thermometer, "liver temp estimates time of death presumably two days ago. The cause of death appears to be multiple stab wounds, the fatal blow in the region of the lungs, possibly causing a hemothorax. However, I cannot confirm my theory until I get her to Autopsy."

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgement and instructed his team to begin processing the crime scene. Ducky and Palmer loaded up the body and made their way back to Headquarters.

After dozens of photographs were taken, and fibers and fingerprints were collected, the team packed up and left the residence to the locals.

"It's all yours, Ponch," Tony grinned, patting one of the officers on the shoulder as he exited.

After a couple of hours of work, the team was finally settled in a their desks, patiently waiting for Abby to inform them of her test results.

Gibbs entered her lab right on cue. Her computer beeped and she squealed with joy. She got a hit.

She turned around to pick up her phone and gasped, jumping back.

"Gibbs! You're here! I mean, you _should_ be here. You're _always_ here when my babies have something to say. I haven't figured out how you _know_ yet, but I will. One day. I promise. I mean, not that I should make a promise to you, incase I can't keep it, but--" Gibbs cut her off.

"What do you got for me, Abs?"

"Oh. Right. Well," she went back to her computer, clicking the mouse. " The fingerprints that you found at the scene, as well as the tiny fibers you gave me, all come back to a Samuel Ryan."

"Ex-husband?"

"More than likely. His current residence? New York City."

Gibbs' eyes widened and he studied the results on the screen.

"Looks like we have some bags to pack. Thanks, Abs." Gibbs kissed her cheek , and handed her a Caf-Pow!.

"You're going to New York?" She asked, but he had already left.

Gibbs headed back up to the bullpen, fresh coffee in hand. "Pack your bags."

"What?" McGee questioned.

"Pack your bags. Got a trip to take."

"A trip? To where, Boss?" Tony asked.

"New York."

They blinked. "New York?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo. Got a problem with that?"

"No. No, I..." Tony hesitated, then turned to face McGee. "We're going to New York, McStock Market!"

McGee shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"How long will we be staying, Gibbs?" Ziva asked curiously.

"_You_ won't be staying anywhere but _here_."

"What? Why am I not going?"

"Need ya to stay back and help Abby. Gotta keep tabs here, too."

"But I--," she was cut off.

"No 'buts', Ziva."

"But you need me there, Gibbs."

Gibbs walked over to her, lowering his voice. "I need people that I can trust there, Ziva. You. Stay."

Ziva's eyes widened and a look of hurt etched itself on her face.

"DiNozzo, McGee," Gibbs called out, "grab what ya need and meet back in half an hour. Got a flight to catch."


End file.
